


Tumblr Prompts

by markwatneyandensemble



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markwatneyandensemble/pseuds/markwatneyandensemble
Summary: 14. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.





	1. This is Not A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> 14\. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.
> 
> 19\. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

It happened all at once. He was gone and then he was there; shaking her awake with the eagerness and impatience of a child on Christmas morning. She’d barely opened her eyes when his mouth fell to hers, pulling her in deep, and shocking her awake like a defibrillator. It was him. There. In her bed, hot and heavy, maneuvering himself so his weight was wrapped around her, like the best kind of blanket she could have imagined.

“Where have you been?” she gasped, asking the first of many questions, as she clawed at his abdomen, and he swallowed her again, whole. 

“I’m back,” he whispered, kissing her over and over and over again as a distraction from the fact that he hadn’t given an answer to her question. But it didn’t matter. That was all she really needed to know. He was back. And sooner or later she’d find out everything, where he was, what happened to him, who she needed to murder for depriving her of this sensation for two long months. 

“Do you really wanna do this?” she asked, as he reached down and flicked open her shirt’s bottom two buttons. “Are you feeling up to it?”

He groaned, and kissed her hard, his nose pressing into her cheek, skin cotton soft against hers, but as much as it pained her, she pulled away.

“Mulder, stop- seriously, we have to get you to a hospital. You have to be checked out. It’s been two months, and God knows what’s happened to you-“ She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to still herself. There’d be plenty of time to do… well, that- but only once they knew he was okay. But if he was hurt, or sick, she had to know. She couldn’t lose him again.

“Mul-“ she started, opening her eyes to convey those facts to him, but he was gone. Empty room, disturbed covers. The jacket he’d tossed away was disappeared from her floor. She hadn’t even heard the door click closed.

And suddenly, like her entire body was turned off and on again, she jolted awake, sweaty and sticky, breathing hard, only to find the same dark, empty room, and a completely different weight in her stomach. And in her arms, like a caught thirteen year old in the midst of a fantasy, she found herself holding a pillow as tight as she wished she could hold him. 


	2. What If It Isn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-ep/Slight AU for Kitsunegari   
Prompt: “You took a bullet for me.”

In a warehouse in Virginia, two bodies were punctured, and one hit the floor. 

She sat next to him on the way to the hospital, apologizing over and over. “I had to,” she said. “You were moving, and shaking. I couldn’t get a shot on Linda Bowman, and she was about to shoot you.” 

And another gunshot saved his life. 

“It’s alr-i-ight,” he slurred, and almost drunkenly gazed up at her. 

A blonde woman rode in an ambulance behind them, unconscious. She’d visit her briefly, during the surgery that saved her partner. 

“You two are so similar,” Linda rasped. “I’ve been in both your heads, and you think alike. Like an old married couple.” 

Married. 

She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought, being brought back to the day before. The safe house. The interrogation. 

_Why did you get married so fast? she’d asked, in essence. _

_Why wait when it’s true love? _

She felt a burning in her throat, on her neck, where months before she was hurt to save her life. 

And then, she blinked, and she found herself back in Mulder’s room. By his bedside, crouched, like he’d been when she woke up months before. 

—-

_“What if I can’t save you?” he’d asked, through tears. _

_“We’ll find a way.” _

_“But what if we can’t?” _

_“Then you’ll carry on for the both of us.” _

_“But what about us?” _

_—-_

“Scully? Scully?” The tab on a laminated hospital bracelet flicked her nose, and Mulder immediately stopped waving his hand. 

“Mmm?” 

“You okay?” 

She looked down at that hand. His hand. His bare hand. 

The one that reached out to grasp hers, like it had that night. 

“I really am sorry I shot you, again.” 

“Better than me shooting you.” His face told her all she needed to know. That he regretted the wrong thing. “I’m sorry I let them get to me again.” 

She swallowed that lump in her throat. “You took a bullet for me.” She rubbed his ring finger with her thumb. 

———

_“What about us?” _

_“I always thought that maybe we’d… eventually. Didn’t you?” _

_For a moment, she’d almost hated him for giving up on her life like that. Moving on to what he’d be missing out on. But she stared down at her skeletal remains, and couldn’t blame him. _

_“Yeah, I did. But what do you want to do about it?” _

_He had an answer. Of course, he did. _

_——-_

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You keep zoning out.” 

“I’m fine. Just… just thinking about something she said.” 

“Don’t let her get in your head, okay? She and Modell were psychopaths. They just wanted to mess with us.” He ran his finger along the veins on her wrist. Like he could feel the healthy blood flowing beneath the surface. The healthy blood. The clean blood, that had saved him from a worse regret, she was sure. 

——–

_Within the week, those months ago, she’d been saved. A damn miracle. They were happy, they cried. But then, they were alone, and suddenly, he looked like a scared puppy with a tail between his legs. _

_“Listen, about last night…”, he’d said, like he was hoping she’d fill in the gap. That her and her broken body would be stronger than he could be. _

_“We should wait. Now that we have time,” she whispered, knowing that they’d immediately go back to the glacial pace they’d been moving at. Like honey dripping off a spoon. In a Florida room, months later, she’d try and speed things up. But of course… that wasn’t what happened. _

——-

_Why wait when it’s true love? _

Linda Bowman had asked the question neither wanted to answer. Luckily, the demanding case distracted them from what they already knew. But now, with him in a hospital bed, and neither wanting to relive the warehouse incident, she fixated on that question. Like she was taking a bullet herself. 

_Why wait when it’s true love? _

Because, what if it isn’t?


	3. A Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: When was the last time you slept?

1\. A knock came to Scully’s door, and she rolled over with a groan, last night’s tears still frozen to her face.

It was barely seven in the morning. The thought of getting up made her nauseous, either from morning sickness or grief, but the pounding got more insistent, and she fought her way to her feet.

“Who the fuck is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse, and body aching.

“Someone with information you need.”

2\. The town had never been short it’s share of spooky stories. She’d been hearing them for years. Kids snatched up by bog-people. Dogs running away, and coming back with strange marks on their bodies. But for all the missing kid stories she’d heard, it had been a long time since she’d heard of an extra showing up.

“She doesn’t match the description of any missing child in the area, we don’t know where she came from. And she sure as hell won’t talk to me.” The cop stroked his weathered chin. “I’m happy to keep an eye on her, it’s a light night, but I’m guessing you’ll have better luck.”

She saw the look in his eye, that fifteen year in the making look, and she nodded curtly. “Watch the door. I’ll take care of it.”

She took a deep breath before entering the room, forcing a comforting smile.

“Hey.” She gave the girl a little wave, stepping forward cautiously. “My name’s Anne. I’m a nurse, and I’m going to take good care of you.”

The girl’s eyes got wide and wild when she touched her hand.

“Hey, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you, I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright.”

Her smile seemed to comfort the girl, while she examined her arms. “Can you tell me your name?”

The girl shook her head, but she was momentarily distracted by the half-moon shaped scars covering her arms. Her breath was caught for a moment.

“How old are you?” she asked, softly.

“Six.”

She touched one scar, and the girl flinched in response. “How long did they keep you?”

“Long time.”

She was silent a moment, trying to put herself in the mind of a child younger than she could even remember. Just as she felt herself become distracted, a little hand grabbed at her sleeve, and pulled it up, revealing the matching scars she kept hidden.

In the hallway, they heard quick footsteps, and the booming voice of the officer holding them off. Her twenty year old nightmare had come true. They found her, and they hadn’t even been trying to. The girl’s grip on her sleeve tightened, her big blue eyes filled with fear.

“Please help me,” she whispered.

3\. The bus station wasn’t far by foot, one of the perks of the job.

At the back of a ten-forty-five Greyhound, she tucked her balled cardigan between the girl’s chubby cheek and the frosty glass as she slept.

When they reached California, she carried her the rest of the way, holding her close as they waited by the payphone for that pair of dim headlights to come and find them. And in the wee hours of the morning, she tucked her into her mother’s sofa, before collapsing at the kitchen table exhausted.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Arbutus asked, setting a cup of tea on the table in front of her.

She rubbed her eyes. “They almost found me.”

A spoon full of honey stopped in midair.

“They almost found me,” she whispered, shaking her head with disbelief. “And they weren’t even looking for me.” She glanced at the sleeping child. “They were looking for her.”

“Is she another lab rat?” Arbutus’ voice was filled with disgust as she started a slow stirring in her cup.

“Yeah, she has the same marks. I didn’t have time to get a good look at her though.”

“Did she say anything about a family? Or where she came from?”

“No. She’s young though. Six. I doubt she even remembers them.” She swallowed hard and looked at her tea, for a moment the image of a brown haired boy bubbled to the surface. “I can’t imagine not remembering anything about them.”

Her mother stared at her for a long time, and she wondered what wheels were turning in her head. “It’s been well over six months since you’ve called.”

She couldn’t figure out why she was bringing this up. Arbutus knew the arrangement. The precautions in place.

“Yeah, it has been.”

Arbutus took a long sip from her tea, steeling herself, knowing what her daughter’s reaction would be to this news. “A lot’s happened in the last six months.”

They were quiet.

“Some FBI agents came to see you.”

Her daughter tensed.

“They weren’t the normal visitors though.”

In the other room, the girl turned over and hummed in her sleep.

“It was your brother.” 

4\. Scully unlocked her door, her service weapon drawn. She knew that voice. She’d heard it in her nightmares for eight years.

CGB Spender crossed the threshold without asking, and took a seat on her arm chair.

“Put the gun down, Agent Scully, and let’s have a talk.”

“What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Just to warn you. A woman and a girl she says is her daughter are going to come to you, asking for help. All I need from you is to turn them into me, when they do.”

Her nostrils flared, and she gripped the gun tighter. “Why the hell would I help you? Why couldn’t you just apprehend her yourself?”

“This woman is dangerous, Agent Scully. She’s an expert in running, and coming to you will be her only option. Believe me, this is more in your best interest than mine. And for your cooperation, I’ll offer you a reward.”

“And what’s that?”

“I know where Agent Mulder is. I can… arrange to have him returned to you, in one piece.”

“No,” she said, her voice shaking. It was like muscle memory by then, but she repeated anyway. “No. I will never make a deal with you.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll leave the address, right…” he pulled a business card from his jacket and stood it up on the table by the door. “Here.”

It took all her willpower to hold herself back as she watched him go. Unloading her clip wouldn’t be worth it, she told herself. Demons are immortal.

She approached the table, ready to rip up the card and light it on fire, when she realized what he’d tucked it up against. Mulder. One of her mini-shrines to him, the one that wished her luck as she hurried out the door each morning with a heavy step.

Her finger left the fiber of the card intact, hating every inch she withdrew away from it.

5\. “When was the last time you slept?”

She’d been sitting there silently, processing the news that her mother had known where her brother was for six months.

“I’m fine,” she finally mustered. “Where is he?”

“Hon-“

“No.” She stood up, and glared at her. “Where is he? I need an address and a phone number.”

“You surely can’t go to him. He’s FBI, and for all we know, they may also be tasked with looking for you, too.”

“We’re leaving in a few hours. I expect the address when I wake up.”

She refused to speak again, and only met her mother’s eye to take the scrap of paper from her, and a piece of toast as she carried the girl out to her mother’s car.

“I’ll have it back in a few days,” she wanted to say. But she couldn’t. The scrawl on the paper was unfamiliar, written messily like the thoughtless boy she’d once called a brother. The first tangible evidence of his existence in twenty years. And so she left silently, and drove east as far as she could.

6\. Scully found herself back in Mulder’s apartment, unable to take the suffocating feeling the card left in her throat. She’d left wondering who this woman was, half-hoping it was another Diana Fowley, or Alex Krycek, and she could make the trade without question. But in her heart she knew that she couldn’t risk an innocent for a reward she wasn’t guaranteed.

And then she stepped through Mulder’s threshold, and his essence filled her lungs. The blanket he’d just washed was draped over the couch. The gurgle of the fish tank soothed her. It smelled like burnt popcorn, off-brand dish soap, and pencil shavings, and she felt her body settle as she curled into the couch.

At some point, she’d dozed off, the crevice Mulder had worn into the couch after years without a bed, was practically holding her. But the knocking got faster, and the door handle jiggled.

“Fox?” a woman’s voice asked, and heart pounding, she rose to answer.  
She opened to find a woman standing in the doorway, with a little girl hiding behind her.

“Does Fox still live here?” the woman asked, voice high and shaking, but Scully couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. She was a dead ringer for Melissa at that age, and she felt her chest constrict.

“Please, I really need to speak with Fox Mulder.”

“He’s… not around.” Scully asked. “I’m his partner. Who are you?”

“My name’s Anne. Will he be back soon?”

She stared at the woman curiously, feeling like she should recognize her, but knowing definitively they’d never met.

“No, he- he’ll be gone a while. What do you need? How do you know him?”

Her eyes darted around, checking the hallway, and she squeezed the trembling girl’s hand.

“He might know me as Samantha. We really need his help.” 


End file.
